‘Oh, all right.’ Her lips twitched despite herself. ‘Her name was Coblaith, but she was no sorceress. She was a Gael, a healer, and after she rescued me she brought me to live here. We spoke different languages, so we communicated through gestures instead. I suppose I got out of the habit of talking, but she still taught me all about herbs and how to use them. If it hadn’t been for her, I would probably have died.’
‘So she found you all alone in the forest?’
‘Yes.’
‘Completely alone?’ He was silent for a moment. ‘What happened to her?’
‘She was already old when she found me. Already weakening, too, I think. Then one morning she started up the mountain on her own without a cloak or a stick or anything. I went to go with her, but she just gestured for me to stay. She gave me this.’ She touched her fingers to the torc around her neck. ‘I don’t know how she found the strength to climb up there, but she did. I never saw her again after that.’
‘And you’ve lived here ever since?’
‘Yes. It’s been five winters since she found me. Three since she left.’
‘Three winters on your own?’
She nodded and lapsed into silence, surprised
by her own words. She’d just told him more about herself than she’d ever intended to, but something about him encouraged confidence. Even so, it had to stop now. He hadn’t asked what had happened to her family, but she could sense the question hovering in the air between them.
‘Where’s your shelter?’
‘Mmm?’ He gave a small start, as if she’d just interrupted some chain of thought. ‘Oh, over there.’ He pointed towards a corner of the clearing.
‘Where?’ She peered closer at a pile of branches she’d assumed he’d gathered together for firewood. ‘You mean that?’
‘Yes. In my defence, I didn’t have much time.’
‘Obviously.’ She tried to keep a straight face and couldn’t, a peal of laughter bubbling up before she could stop it. Danr paused in the act of reaching for the cauldron to look at her, his expression arrested, before he laughed, too, his blue eyes sparkling into hers.
‘I’m glad my efforts amuse you.’ He spoke in a tone of mock indignation.
‘I’m sorry. It’s a good start, but...’
‘It’s terrible?’
‘Yes!’ Another burst of giggles erupted.
‘I think this is the first time I’ve seen you smile.’ He put a hand up quickly. ‘That doesn’t mean you have to stop.’
‘But I do.’ She put a hand on her stomach. ‘It hurts. Wait here...’ She went into her roundhouse and came back again with a leather pelt. ‘You can drape this on top. It should keep off the worst of the drizzle as long as there’s no wind.’
‘You think it’s going to rain?’ He glanced up at the sky. ‘It doesn’t look like it to me.’
‘Trust me, it’ll rain before morning. Maybe not much, but there’ll be another downpour again soon. You’ll need to build something more substantial beforehand.’
‘Maybe you could give me some advice?’
‘Maybe. Here.’ She held out the pelt and then inhaled sharply as their fingers inadvertently brushed against, then wrapped around each other at the same moment as their eyes met and held, a hot searing sensation like a flash of lightning passing between them. Warmth coiled in her stomach and her heart gave a sudden, unexpected lurch before she jerked away.
‘Thank you.’ His voice sounded rougher than before. ‘I seem to be saying that a lot.’
‘Yes.’ She twisted her face to one side, too disturbed by their touch to look at him any longer. For a brief moment, all of her consciousness had seemed to hone in on that one spot, on the heat and pressure of his skin against hers. Her fingers still felt as though they were tingling. Somehow his touch had set fire to her blood, making her knees feel alarmingly unsteady, as if they might give way and drop her straight into his arms at any second. The very idea made her take a step backwards. The last thing she wanted was to get any closer to him, but it was becoming impossible to deny the effect he had on her.
She risked a quick peek sideways again and found him staring back, his gaze heated though he was wearing an expression of intense puzzlement. There was a crease between his brows, too, as if he were trying to make sense of something. Whatever it was, it made her nerves hum and her heart thud heavily against her ribcage. If she wasn’t mistaken, there was even gooseflesh on her arms, though she wasn’t remotely cold. None of which she wanted him to know about.
‘You know, I can’t keep on calling you Erika-Bersa.’ His gaze seemed to darken the longer he looked at her. ‘You could at least choose one or the other.’
‘No.’ She gave a small cough and whistled for Tove. ‘I told you, I don’t care. Now you should get some sleep. There are more jobs for you to do tomorrow.’